


holding on underneath this shroud

by artenon



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-20
Updated: 2013-08-20
Packaged: 2017-12-24 02:50:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/934408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artenon/pseuds/artenon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He knows his heart is best kept stashed away, but instead, he keeps taking it out, again and again, because he can't help it, and now it's tarnished. He'd be a lot better off, and more efficient besides, if he didn't care, but Levi has always been bad at not caring.</p>
            </blockquote>





	holding on underneath this shroud

**Author's Note:**

> I, uh, saw a [post on tumblr](http://gaytypetitan.tumblr.com/post/58703892998) that inspired this, hahahah;;;;;;; I don't know how to write angsty things but I ~~was drawn by the idea of levi having a breakdown~~ was...inspired.
> 
> I'M SORRY BYE
> 
> (title is song lyrics from Rain by Patty Griffin)

The room is dark, and small, and dusty, and out of the way, and Levi thinks it must be symbolic because his heart has been locked up and hidden away to gather dust. Except Levi has never been good at keeping things locked away, will always pull whatever it is out to look at it and turn it over in his hands, like that necklace he has, his only keepsake left from a family he doesn't remember—

His heart is a bit like that, too, because he knows it's best kept stashed away, but instead, he keeps taking it out, again and again, because he can't help it, and now it's tarnished. He'd be a lot better off, and more efficient besides, if he didn't care, but Levi has always been bad at not caring. What he _is_ good at is pretending he doesn't care.

But not now.

Now, Levi is falling apart.

Far from choosing this particular room to hide in for any symbolic purposes, Levi picked it because it's the last place anyone would think of to look for him. No one is likely to stumble in on accident, either.

Levi hides here because he can feel the crack running through his mask, ready to break it in half. He knows that to everyone else, he must be the stoic, powerful soldier they all perceive him to be, but here, in this hidden, tucked away corner, with just Levi with his heart in his hands, it's okay.

It starts with a strangled noise halfway to a sob, Levi automatically trying to repair his mask even though there's no one here to see him.

He can't do this.

His shoulders tremble. There’s another noise; he bites his lower lip, and the sound gets stuck in his throat. But the tears are spilling over and the mask is splintered and broken, and Levi allows himself to sink down to the floor.

He hits the floor on his hands and knees, not caring if he gets dirty as sobs take over his body, breath coming out in heavy gasps.

He hasn't been this wrecked since—God, since his early days in the Scouting Legion, years and _years_ ago, after his first time coming back from an expedition where everything had gone horribly wrong. Of course, all expeditions end in varying degrees of failure—the reclamation of Trost had been their first victory against the Titans—but the losses hadn’t been this _bad_ in a long time.

He thought they were better now. He thought they’d made progress. But things are just the same as they were back then.

He thinks of all the lives lost trying to gain some, _any_ advantage over the Titans, and for a moment, he can’t breathe. Then the air leaves his lungs in a rush, and he’s crying even harder than before.

His mind and everything goes blank for a while, until awareness seeps back in, and he tries to regain control of himself, but he _can’t_.

The tears won’t stop flowing. His breathing is ragged.

He knows how this will work. His mask slips sometimes, silent tears shed at night, face pressed into his pillow. It’s always back in place by morning.

Because when people look at him, they do not want to see a human, as such; they want to see Humanity’s Strongest—an icon.

So, this isn’t very different from those nights he cried himself to sleep. He’ll pick up the broken pieces; he’ll wash up and put himself back together. Tomorrow, no one will be the wiser. No one will look at Corporal Levi and realize that he’s a broken human, just like the rest of them.

At least, that’s how it was supposed to go.

But then the door creaks open, a shaft of light thrown into the darkened room, and Levi looks up from where he is crouched on the floor to see Eren standing there in the doorway, holding, of all things, _cleaning supplies_.

Levi tries to say something, but he’s crying too hard to make any sort of intelligible sound. He manages to swallow around the lump in his throat, but he still can’t say anything, and then he decides it’s not worth trying, because what can he say, anyway? He’s been caught red-handed. Even if he tells Eren not to look, or to go away, he’ll remember this. Any illusions of Levi’s character he may have had, whatever hyped-up, idolized version of him Eren saw, it’s gone now.

There’s some part of Levi that’s glad it was Eren who found him like this and not someone else, but another part is ashamed. Both these parts are overwhelmed by the part of him that _can’t stop crying_.

And Eren—Eren has been simply standing there, staring at him. Now, he drops everything, supplies clattering to the floor. Levi can feel the floor tremble beneath him as Eren runs over, dropping heavily to his knees beside Levi and grabbing him in a hug, Levi’s only reaction being a startled hitch of breath at the unexpected contact.

Eren doesn’t say a word, just kneels there beside him, hugging him tightly, and after a minute, Levi feels his sobs subside a little. His breaths are still coming in gasps and he can feel himself trembling all over, but Eren is steady and warm.

Levi closes his eyes. They’re pressed close enough together that he can feel Eren’s heart beating against him, a little faster than it should be, but still calmer than Levi’s. He latches onto that, to the feel of Eren’s strong heart. His own seems so weak in comparison.

But the way Eren is holding him, it’s like he can feel the boy gently prying his heart from Levi’s slack fingers and cradling it in his hands, and—it’s far from healed, it’ll never be healed, but something about it feels soothing, and he thinks that maybe he should just let Eren take his heart for safekeeping, because Levi certainly doesn’t know how to take care of it.

It’s a selfish request, but Levi thinks he’s allowed one of those every once in a while.

He’s been an odd mix of limp and tense in Eren’s arms this whole time, but now he brings his arms up and clings to Eren almost desperately, not sure what he’s trying to communicate, but Eren must understand something, because he holds him tighter.

Levi sighs, feeling drained, and sinks against Eren’s body.

Eren doesn’t let go.


End file.
